


faux fancy coffee

by vaporeon_ninja



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, Humanstuck, M/M, Meet-Cute, but also theyre adults in this, honestly just fluff and banter, karkat is a little more chill than he is in canon, maybe ill write a second chapter?, not aged up for sex reasons obviously i just wanna write tired college students trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20492960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaporeon_ninja/pseuds/vaporeon_ninja
Summary: Karkat works at a not-too-shitty cafe, and is bored out of his mind until he gets an interesting (and slightly infuriating) new customer.





	1. Chapter 1

Your shift is moving like fucking molasses today.

It moves slow every day, of course, but today especially so. Maybe it's because you stayed up later than usual last night, maybe it's the banal, smaller-than-average group of customers that you've had for the past two and a half hours, or maybe you're finally just getting sick of your job.

It's not a bad job, and it pays well, but it's- it's a fucking job. And it's  _ work _ . Sure, it's only a coffee shop, but it's one of those coffee shops that pretends it's better and fancier than it actually is. You take it upon yourself to try and give customers a fraction of the fanciness they always seem to be expecting, but it's not easy when your manager is constantly breathing down your neck about 'time management' and other bullshit. You manage your time  _ very well _ , thank you, and the drinks you give your customers are  _ fucking quality _ .

You hear the door chime ring, and try to shake yourself out of your internal ranting before the customer makes it to the register. Usually, the customers you get are regulars, patrons that seem to think the false fancy advertising isn't too false, after all, but every day you get a handful of new ones. This is a new one. The first thing you notice about him is  _ long _ , and it's all you can see for a moment. He's tall, lean, almost gangly in appearance, and you can see right away that his jeans, despite being oversized, are too short for him. The second thing you notice- and you usually try not to with customers, you really do- is  _ hot _ . Okay, maybe not  _ hot _ , but definitely pleasing to the eye, or at least, pleasing to your eye. He has light brown skin, and a mess of (definitely bleached) blond curls atop his head. He's also, confusingly, wearing shades, even though the shop is rather dimly lit, and you wonder if he thinks they make him look cool. They don't- he looks like a dork- but it's charming, in a dumb way.

You have no idea how you processed all of this before he made it to the register, but suddenly he's right in front of you and tugging at the drawstrings on his jacket. "Yo," he says, and you try (and fail) not to visibly cringe. "Do you have...uh, do you have any seasonal drinks?"

"We do, yes," you say, putting on your best I'm-a-happy-employee-please-tip-me voice, and you note with satisfaction that it's starting to get better. Another thing your manager is always on you about- attitude. "We have-"

"Oh, wait, uh," he says suddenly, and all the mushy feelings you had before started to fizzle up and die. Of course, the hot one had to be  _ that _ kind of customer. "Not seasonal. Shit. I don't know why- actually, wait, yeah, that, uh- that works."

"...So you  _ do  _ want the seasonal drinks list?"  _ Is this guy high? _

You can't really read his expression, but you think he looks almost embarrassed. "Is it on a separate paper or something?"

"Nope," you say, "I was just gonna read them off the menu up there." 

"Nevermind then, uh- sorry. I'll just… read the. Menu. Yeah."

_ He's gotta be high, _ you think, growing increasingly irritated with every development in this conversation.  _ Customers are fucking stupid all the time, but he has to be high. Or at least ridiculously fucking awkward _ .

"Holy shit," he says, breaking your train of thought. "These coffees come in little ceramic cups?"

"Unless you get it to-go, yes," you say through gritted teeth. "Do you know what you'd like to order?"

"Uh," he says again,  _ how many times can this guy say 'uh'? _ "What would you recommend…" He leans forward a bit, and you instinctively lean back. "...Kar-kat?"

"I," you start, trying to breath normally and not burst into a fit, "Would recommend our cinnamon mocha latte, with a shot of caramel." Not only is it  _ clearly _ the superior drink to all the drinks this place serves, it's also your speciality. Best to make the customers something you're good at making.

"I'll take that, then," he says, then a pause. "I'm Dave. Dave Strider. Since I know your name, you should know mine, too."

"You planning on becoming a regular?"  _ Shit _ . It just slipped out. To your shock, though, instead of looking annoyed, he gives you a hint of a smile.

"Possibly. Would that be acceptable,  _ Karkat?" _

You narrow your eyes at him. Is he  _ challenging _ you? What happened to his nervous, awkward demeanor? Is that a thing people do when they're high, suddenly shift between moods and creep out employees? "We're always happy to have new patrons," you say, a bit too loudly (your manager would say that  _ everything  _ you say is delivered too loudly). "Strider."

He fakes a gasp, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. "Not on a first name basis yet?"

You don't respond, instead writing  _ Strider _ on the little slip of paper that has his order. "Your total is $4.95."

"Cool," he says, and hands you a ten. When you give him the change, he puts it all in the tip jar without a second of hesitation. You try not to show how much this shocks you, and you want to believe that you were moderately successful (you were not).

"Gotta start my patron-hood off strong," he says, and although his expression is still that (already infuriating) passive look, his voice carries a light humor.

"Jegus, what the hell," you sigh, looking away from him and back at his drink.  _ What kind of dude pulls that weird shit then tips you  _ over  _ 100%? _

He- Dave-  _ Strider _ \- arches a brow. "Jegus?"

Shit.  _ Seriously? At work? Fucking idiot _ , you think, berating yourself instinctively for something that you logically know isn't really that serious. "Long story," you mutter, "Hard to explain."

"I've got time," he says, and looks at you- at least, you think he's looking at you. His head is turned in your direction and his body seems to be leaning towards you, but you can't see where he's actually looking through his shades. But he's probably looking at you.

"I've got to make your drink." There's no way to double-task the Jegus story. It takes  _ full _ concentration.

"Then tell me after."

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he- does he  _ actually _ want to talk to you? Still? After all that weird shit? Or is he making fun of you? "I still have to work," you decide to say, looking carefully at the register instead of his face. "I already had my break, and my shift doesn't end for a while."

Strider hums, and you decide to start his drink while you can, while he's quiet. If you didn't take the chance now, you might've never gotten to it, for all you know. As you make the drink, though, you can feel his stare on the back of your neck. It makes your skin crawl, like tiny little bugs are scuttling about and you can't do anything to stop them. Why is he watching you?  _ Why can't he just stand at the fucking pickup counter, or sit down like everyone else? Fuck. _

He doesn't say anything the entire time you make the drink, and somehow, that only makes everything worse. You can still feel him staring. Sure enough, when you turn to give him his (artfully crafted, if you do say so yourself) drink, he still has the same even gaze (through his stupid shades, which he  _ still _ hasn't removed) as when you started making it.

"Thanks," he says, and you refuse to acknowledge the way your heart rate picks up when his fingers brush yours in the process of taking the cup. "What time is your shift over?"

You try not to look like a dead fish, but you're pretty sure you failed.  _ He's asking about my shift! Why is he asking about my shift? What the fuck? What the fuck. _ "Uh," you say, because your monkey brain can't think of anything else, "Like, five?" You don't know why you said  _ like _ , as if you didn't know when your own shift ended. Another thing to feel stupid about.

"Cool," he says, nodding, "Then you can tell me the  _ Jegus _ story at five. I've got some shit to finish up anyway, and what kind of college student would I be if I didn't spend my time doing homework in a coffee shop."

"No fucking way," you say, and silently panic over the fact that you cursed at a customer (even though really,  _ he _ cursed at  _ you _ first). "You're gonna stay here 'till  _ five _ to hear some stupid story? You're shitting me."  _ Fuck! Again! _

He raises his hands in mock protest. "No shitting, promise! No shitting. I want to know what the fuck could've happened to, one, make the word 'Jegus' happen, and two, what makes the development of such a fine word so  _ very _ hard to explain." He puts a hand over his heart and clutches at the fabric of his shirt. "Bro, I wouldn't shit you about my dedication to Jegus."

You blink. Then you blink again. A third time, just to be sure. Nope. He's still there, hand over heart, face completely neutral, as if he hadn't just said the funniest thing you've ever heard in relation to Jegus.  _ Who the fuck is this guy _ , you think, because seriously,  _ holy shit _ .

"Fine," you say, scowling slightly (you would  _ die _ before letting this bastard know how much that killed you). "You can sit down and do your work or whatever, and get bored for hours, I guess. But when you finally hear the Jegus story and realize it definitely wasn't worth your time, I hope you learn something."

"Bro, nothing about Jegus could waste my time."

"You don't know anything about Jegus."

"I can  _ feel _ it. In my bones. You got bones, Karkat? Can you feel it?"

"...What the fuck?"

You hear the chime at the door ring, and you look to see your next customer walk in, and when you turn back to Dave- to Strider, he's already seated himself at a table by the window.

____________

The second the clock hits five, Strider closes his laptop and waits. You can  _ tell _ he's waiting. He keeps trying to pretend he's not looking at you, but you know he is. It would be hilarious if you didn't feel somewhat nauseous. You have no idea what the  _ fuck  _ to expect from this, and you're still not sure if you want to find out. But you don't really have a choice, because as you trade off with your coworker- Kanaya, what a fucking saint that woman is- you can see Strider staring directly at you out of the corner of your eye.

You goran, because seriously,  _ more _ time in this shop, but accept your fate and sit down across from him.

"So," he starts, "Jegus."

"Yep."

"Like- Jesus? Or is that a coincidence?"

"What do you think."

"...Like Jesus?"

"Bingo," you sigh, leaning your cheek in your hand. "Okay, so, just a warning- this story's really fucking weird."

"That's exactly why I gotta know it, bro."

"Still, just- you can't say I didn't warn you." Deep breath. Oh god, you  _ cannot _ look him in the eye for this. "Basically, me and my friends accidentally started a one-man cult."

Strider stares at you. You can't look at him.

"...No bullshit?"

"No bullshit."

" _ How?" _

"Okay, so-" Oh god, you can feel your cheeks flushing. This story is  _ so _ fucking embarrassing, god. "Senior year of highschool, me and my friends were texting about something, and one of them accidentally sent  _ Jegus _ instead of  _ Jesus _ . So we started shitting on them, and then we sorta started, like- making a story out of it? We started joking about how Jegus was like, Jesus's twin brother who was batshit crazy and had all of Jesus's powers but did weird shit with them."

"This doesn't sound too bad so far," Strider says slowly, and you grimace.

"It's not over, let me finish, god. So we made this character Jegus, and we all thought he was hilarious, so my other friend texted screenshots of the convo to a different group chat, and it kinda...spread? Not that far or anything, but a few different groups got it. One of the kids who got it was, apparently, tripping on acid when he first read the story of Jegus."

"Oh god."

"And so," you relish in the way Strider's eyebrows keep inching up his forehead, "And so, he started going apeshit about Jegus, and somehow got the delusion that he was Jegus reincarnated."

"Holy  _ shit _ ."

"It gets better," you say, a smile creeping its way on your face. "He thought, since he was, of course, the reincarnated prophet Jegus, he had to go to us who had 'rediscovered' Jegus and reveal his true nature." You snort a laugh, and you can see that Strider's trying not to laugh as well. "So without telling us why, he texts as many people as he could figure out were in the original group chat to go to his place. And when we got there-" You actually laugh this time, a full laugh, and you can see Kanaya at the register snickering as well. "When we got there, he was wearing only a towel tied as a cape and a codpiece he had made for a cosplay  _ years _ ago, and he had painted his face all weird. He had also hung up a sign that I'm pretty sure was supposed to say 'Jegus Party'? But I'm not sure."

"Karkat," Strider says, and his voice sounds strangled. "I'm going to  _ shit _ myself."

"He starts- he starts chanting that he's the messiah or something, and that only  _ he _ can save humanity because he's  _ Jegus _ , of course, and when none of us could take him seriously, he screamed, ' _ Fuck you, I'm Jegus!' _ , climbed up on his bunk bed, and jumped down, passing out before he hit the floor."

" _ Karkat,"  _ Strider gasps, breathless. You're breathless too- it's been  _ way _ too long since the Jegus story was told.

"We all left once we were sure he was okay and not, y'know,  _ dead _ , and when he texted us in the morning, all he said was, ' _ what the fuck did you let me do' _ ** _._ ** " You lean back in your chair and spread your arms. " _ Fin." _

" _ Karkat, _ " Strider says again, and you grin wider. "That was  _ absolutely  _ worth a two and a half hour wait. That was worth a  _ ten _ hour wait."

You feel your cheeks flush again, and find that you can't look him in the eye for a completely different reason now. "Maybe not  _ that _ long," you mutter, "But it is a pretty good fucking story."

"Dude, bro, I  _ need _ to hear more shit like this. We should like, hang out, trade batshit stories, and- and- uh. Uh."

It appears that Strider's brain has caught up with his mouth, and he looks as if he's short-circuited. "If you want to, uh,"  _ don't stumble, don't stumble, _ "If you want to hang out, I can give you my number."

He stares at you, and this time you're certain he is. Even though you can't see his eyes, you  _ know _ . "Uh," he says, and damn, that seems to be filling up both your vocabularies, "Um. Yeah. Sure, okay, cool. That's cool. Cool."

"Cool," you echo, "Here, hand me your phone, I can-"

"Right, yeah, here-"

"Cool."

"Cool."

He has your number now. You successfully gave your number to him. Now your heart won't stop beating, and your palms are starting to get sweaty, but you did it.

"So," he starts, and you can tell by the way his fingers are tapping that he's nervous too, "Does this count as our first bro-to-bro hangout?"

"If you call it that again, there won't be another."

"_Bro_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat is faced with the miserable realization that he has, once again, fallen for someone too hard, too fast.

"Why were you so weird about seasonal coffee?"

Strider lifts one side of the headphones off of his ear, twisting in his chair to face you. "Can't hear you, dude, I'm jamming." You expect him to turn away and go back to listening to his music, but instead he pulls the headphones down around his neck and nods in your direction. "What did you say?"

"When you first came into the shop," you start, "You asked me about the seasonal drinks, but then you got all fucky and awkward. Why?"

Under Strider's shades, you can see a blush beginning to spread over his cheekbones, and you immediately veto the thought of how cute it looks.  _ Two months, asshole, _ you berate yourself,  _ it's only been two months. _ You made a rule a long time ago to not fall for someone until you've known them longer. Fast falling always leads to a harder impact.

"Right," Strider says slowly, and you remember that you had just asked him a question. "Okay, so- it's stupid."

You wait.

"It's really stupid," he sighs, "Pretty dang dumb, if I do say so myself."

You continue to wait in silence.

" _ Karkat _ ," Strider whines, "This is the part where you say,  _ oh, it's okay, Dave, you don't have to tell me then! I don't want to embarrass you because we're bros and I care about your pride! _ "

"I don't, though," you say, "Not at all."

Strider gives you a flat look. "I  _ know _ that," he says, "Because if you  _ really _ cared, you would've already said what I stated previously."

"You're evading the question."

"And  _ you're  _ a barista at a café."

"...What?"

"I thought we were stating obvious things here, Karks."

Despite acknowledging the fact that he is, in fact, avoiding answering, Strider still hasn't actually said anything. "Just tell me before I choose a movie you won't like for tonight," you say, using the power of  _ my turn to pick the movie _ \- a sacred power, rarely evoked unless truly necessary.

Strider gasps, instantly recognizing the severity of this statement. "You  _ wouldn't _ ."

"I would."

"Bastard."

"Dickwad."

"Bitch."

"Fuckface."

" _ Whore _ ."

" _ Cockmuncher _ ."

"Cock-" You've won this round- Strider looks completely caught off-guard. " _ Cockmuncher? _ "

"Just answer the question, Strider," you sigh, "It can't be  _ that _ embarrassing, not embarrassing enough to have resulted in all this shit." At this point, you don’t even care about the answer, not really- it’s more that you want him to admit defeat and start talking. You’re sure that the answer itself will be lame.

Strider takes in a deep breath, holds your gaze for three more seconds, then lets it out in what you know is victory for you. “ _ Fine _ ,” he moans, “Fine, fine,  _ okay _ . I yield.” He then leans back in his chair, bringing a hand to his face to cover his eyes (even though the  _ stupid damn  _ sunglasses already  _ do that _ ), and drags the hand down to his cheek. “So, my sister had recommended the shop, because, uh, because the coffee is good or whatever,”  _ Strider’s a terrible liar _ , “And so I was like,  _ aight, cool, imma check this place out, _ y’know?”

“Sure," you say. "I think most people do."

“Right,” he says, and bites his lower lip. “Anyway, so I go in, and as I’m walking to the register, I realize that I haven’t actually  _ been _ to a café in a while, and I have no idea what to do at a café, and I don’t have a plan of action.” He’s looking anywhere but you- his legs, the ceiling, posters on the wall, literally  _ anywhere _ . You can tell he’s not looking at you even with his shades obscuring his eyes because every time he looks somewhere else, he turns his head with his gaze. It’s kind of adorable, and you mentally slap yourself.

“So, you decided on...a totally normal topic of conversation?”

“That’s the  _ thing _ , though!” As he says this, he throws both hands in the air wildly. “I know fuck-all about normal café conversations, so how could I be sure if that was a normal one?” You open your mouth to say,  _ it’s not that deep, Strider, _ but he’s relentless. “So I asked about seasonal drinks, because that  _ seemed _ normal, but then I thought,  _ what if I don’t like any of the seasonal drinks? _ And that would’ve resulted in me staying at the register  _ even longer _ , and I didn’t want to bother you, so I said nevermind, but then I realized that that’s  _ worse _ ! ‘Cause now I sounded like an idiot,  _ and _ I was being annoying, so I just  _ hella _ backtracked and asked for your recommendation.” He drags both hands over his face now, and you can see that he’s blushing furiously. “Happy now?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, throat suddenly thick and cheeks hot. “That’s not nearly as bad as you were making it seem.”

“Maybe not for  _ you _ !” Strider cries, “For me it was  _ utterly humiliating _ .” He spins his chair around a few times, hanging his head down to his knees. “I didn’t want to be  _ that _ customer, y’know?”

“Everyone’s that customer sometimes,” you sigh, picking up your phone to start searching for a new movie to watch tonight. “At least you’re aware of how much that customer sucks.” You shudder as memories of horrible, awful customers ring through your head in a haunting manner.

Strider stops spinning in his chair, and leans his chin into the palm of his hand. “I guess, but  _ still _ ,” he says, voice taking an oddly wistful tone, “I’ve got a reputation to upkeep.”

“As what, exactly,” you state flatly, already knowing the answer.

“As the coolest, chillest guy on this campus.  _ Obviously _ , Karkat, just look at me.”

_ Trying not to, _ you think, but instead you say, “I don’t know how you can possibly think of yourself that way. You’re a  _ massive _ dork, Strider.”

“How  _ dare _ you,” he gasps, “I am  _ so _ cool.”

“Despite what you may think, cool guys aren't always wearing sunglasses during every possible occasion.” 

“The glasses are  _ ironic _ .”

You sigh,  _ again _ , and decide to drop it before you start this same shit over. He’s told you that the glasses are  _ ironic _ at least five times now, and each time you get more certain that he doesn’t actually know what ironic means. "Whatever, Strider," you say, "How does  _ To All the Boys I've Loved Before _ sound for tonight?"

"I held up my part of the deal," Strider huffs. "I thought we were picking a movie I'd  _ like _ ."

"This movie is fucking  _ amazing _ , asshole," you snap. "I think you might actually like this one."

Strider sighs, but doesn't argue further. as you pull out your laptop and open Netflix. “I still don’t understand your thing with romcoms, man,” he says, “I’ve only seen, like, one or two good ones.”

“ _ Romcoms _ are fucking  _ awesome _ to watch, because you either get a really good movie, or a fucking hilarious shitty one.” You scroll down and click on the movie, shuffling the laptop as Strider comes and sits next to you on his bed. “There’s just no losing.”

“But you’ve cried at like, every romcom we’ve watched so far.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No. Shut up and watch the movie”

Strider mutters something under his breath, but mercifully stays silent. As the movie’s opening starts playing, Strider shifts closer to you- just slightly, probably to see the screen better, but it still makes your breath hitch. You wonder, not for the first time, how things got here so fast.

____________

Strider first invited you to his apartment after a week and a half of consistent café visits.

True to his word, he had become a regular and visited every day, arriving at about 2:45 every time. He would greet you at the register, you two would snark back and forth for a bit, then you’d take his order and he’d sit at his favorite table ( _ It just has the best fucking lighting, bro _ , he’d told you before), open his laptop, and start doing whatever work he had been assigned and had probably procrastinated on for longer than necessary. Once your shift ended, you would go and sit with him, and you two would hang out and talk some more until the café closed.

The day he asked you was exactly like all those other days, but it represented a change, a pivotal twist in your routine that would lead you to who knows where.

You had been sitting with him, occasionally eyeing the clock on the wall and noting that the café would be closing soon. He was asking you about your name, wondering where the hell a name like  _ Karkat _ could come from.

“I’m not sure, honestly,” you had said, “I think my dad and some of his friends were in some kind of cult, or club, or something, ‘cause we all have names that are weird as fuck.”

Strider choked on the sandwich he had bought, hacking for a few seconds before saying, “ _ What _ ?”

You shrugged. “It’s not like he’s in it  _ anymore _ ,” you said, and you had felt a sudden (and completely ridiculous) defensiveness. “He doesn’t even talk to his old friends anymore.”

“You seem to have a strange connection to cults,” Strider said, voice sounding a bit strangled. “Are you sure you and all your friend’s names aren’t just, like, from a different language or something?”

“I think some of them are rooted in Latin,” you had said, remembering the time you, Kanaya, and Sollux had tried searching your names online. “If I remember right, they all seem to have something to do with our zodiac signs, so I guess that’s interesting.”

“Is this where the cult part comes in?” Strider had asked.

“It could’ve been a  _ club _ .”

“Hey,  _ you _ brought up the cult thing, not me.”

You had sighed, leaning your head back, when you saw the clock again and realized that the shop was two minutes from closing. “Oh, shit,” you had murmured, “We’ve got to go.”

“Right,” Strider said, but he had sounded....not  _ sullen _ , but something related to it. “Let me just, uh- yeah.”

He had packed his stuff quickly while you grabbed your bag, then you had both walked out to the sidewalk, where you usually parted ways. “Alright, see you tomorrow, Strider,” you had said, and before you could turn to leave, he had grabbed your wrist.

“Wait-” he had said, then seemed to notice what he was doing, as he dropped your wrist instantly and took a couple steps back. “I was actually, uh, thinking, that maybe- maybe tonight, instead of just cutting off the convo and picking up tomorrow, we could, uh- uh, we could do something different.”

You had blinked, trying to process what he had actually said through all the stumbling, then felt the dawning realization of the implication of his statement. “What...did you have in mind?” You had asked, swallowing the near-deafening doubts that were screaming in your ears.

“I just- I thought that maybe we could- y’know, maybe we could hang out at my place tonight instead?” He had said the last part quickly, as if he was trying to get it all out before something stopped him. “We don’t have to, ‘course, it was just a sugge-”

“That would be cool,” you had blurted out, interrupting his backtrack. “Are you driving, or is it walking distance?”

He had stared at you, glasses glinting under the streetlight illuminating the two of you, and you reminded yourself again that you  _ cannot _ get crushes on people too fast. “We’ve gotta drive there,” he said, and his voice had sounded faint.

“Alright,” you had said, and hoped that you seemed more confident than you felt. “Ready to go, then?”

“Uh- yeah, sure, let me just…” He had pulled his keys out of his pocket then, and you noticed some interesting charms- a gear, a record, and a little red pokemon were the only ones you could catch before he dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go then.”

“Cool.”

“...Cool.”

_________________

_ To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before _ has just ended, and Strider is asleep on your shoulder.

You haven’t been able to breathe properly since his head dropped there, so your air supply has been limited for about thirty minutes. It’s- a lot, you think, having Strider  _ sleeping on you _ , which is some exhilarating combination of incredible and terrifying, but also, his sunglasses (who the fuck wears sunglasses in a dark room to watch a  _ movie _ ) are digging into your shoulder and it  _ hurts _ . 

“Strider,” you whisper, “ _ Strider _ , wake up.” The bastard appears dead to your words. “ _ Strider _ , seriously. Wake  _ up _ .” Somehow, he seems even  _ more _ asleep than before. Maybe you’re just being petty. “I need to go home, Strider, so you need to  _ wake up _ .” Nothing. “ _ Dave,  _ Jegus,  _ get up _ .”

Miraculously, with that one, he finally mumbles something along the lines of  _ I’m awake, I’m awake _ , and starts coming to. “Shit, is it...did I sleep through the movie?” He tilts his head towards the screen, then pauses for a moment before suddenly launching himself across the bed. “ _ Shit _ , dude, I fucking- I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, Strider,” you sigh, rubbing at your shoulder where the indent of his sunglasses is in your skin. “You stayed awake longer than I thought you would.” Throwing a shitfit would be too much effort at this hour, and honestly, you don’t care that much. You’re mostly just happy he watched any of it at all.

“That’s not-” he starts, then seemingly decides against whatever he was going to say, because he shakes his head and pushes himself upright. “...Sorry. This one was actually pretty okay, for a romcom.”

You know that in Strider-language, this means,  _ oh Karkat, this movie was wonderful, thank you for showing it to me _ (absolutely not exaggerated), but you just nod as you slide off the bed and grab your bag. “We can watch a movie you’ll be able to stay awake through next week. For now, though, I need to get back to my own apartment.” You see him follow your movements towards the door, yet he doesn’t get off the bed. “See you tomorrow, Strider.”

“...You don’t have to keep calling me by my last name, you know,” he says, just as you’re turning the knob. “Aren’t we like, friends now?”

“...We’re friends,” you say slowly, feeling suddenly as if Strider is a wild animal that you’re about to scare away. “Does it bother you that I-?”

“No,” he says, too quick, too defensive. “I was just saying- you don’t have to.”

“Alright, then,” you say, knowing full well that he is  _ definitely _ bothered and  _ definitely _ embarrassed about being bothered. “See you tomorrow, Dave.”

“Uh-” He looks genuinely confused for a moment, and you can feel your face reddening so you turn away quickly. “Uh, yeah. See you tomorrow.”

With that, you know you can’t handle any more, so you shut the door before you say anything else, especially something weird.  _ Oh god, _ you think,  _ oh, god, oh fuck, fuck fucking shit. _

You’re fucked.

_______________

“Karkat, I know this might seem completely unfounded, but I feel as if something is wrong.”

You’re lying face down on Kanaya’s bed with your legs dangling over the side, and you almost don’t hear her over the music you’re listening to at a definitely dangerous volume. It’s Mitski, of course, because who the fuck else are you supposed to listen to in times like these. “I’m fine,” you mutter, voice muffled through her comforter. “Fucking peachy.”

“If you were peachy, you wouldn’t be crying to love songs in my room while I’m working.”

“I’m not  _ crying _ .” You push yourself into a sitting position, leaning forward so she can see that your face is tear-free and totally fine.

“I know,” she sighs, “I was just saying that so you’d sit up.”

You try to think of a retort, but you can’t think of anything fast enough, so instead you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and looking pointedly away from her. “I’m. Fine,” you repeat, “Everything’s fine.”

Kanaya narrows her eyes, and you resist the urge to shrink away. “Karkat, I invited you over so you and I could have a good time, but as it is now, it seems that neither of us are. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you, or do I have to turn on one of your romance movies so you can cry your feelings out?”

“Jegus,” you sigh, “Literally nothing is wrong.” It’s true- nothing  _ is _ wrong. You haven’t been fired, your friends don’t hate you (yet), your brother even finally learned how to not text everything he has to say in one giant block of text. All in all, everything’s been going pretty great for you, really. Except, of course, for the big sunglass-clad elephant in the room.

“Karkat, do not make me involve Rose in this,” Kanaya warns, and you shudder. Rose is a terrifying force of nature, and she sees right through everyone no matter how good of a facade they have. You think she might have mind reading powers, and she refuses to confirm nor deny this.

“Please don’t,” you groan, “Look, really- nothing is wrong. Everything is actually going good for once. It’s just…”

“It’s just…?”

“Do you remember Terezi?”

Kanaya lifts an eyebrow, frowning slightly. “Of course I remember Terezi. It hasn’t been that long since she and Vriska went on their trip.”

“No, I mean-” You grit your teeth, trying to think of the best way to phrase this without her immediately guessing what’s going on. “You remember sophomore year?”

“Oh, you mean when you harbored a massive crush on her, yes,” Kanaya muses, and you feel your cheeks burn. “I could never forget that.”

“Me neither,” you say under your breath. “And you remember Sollux? How I was really into him in middle school?”

“Yes,” Kanaya says, “What does that have to do with Terezi?”

“Do you…” You swallow, drawing your knees closer to your chest. “Do you remember John?”

A pause. “Yes,” she says softly, then she walks over and sits next to you on the bed, laying a hand on your shoulder. “And this is all coming back because…”

“I promised myself,” you begin, “I fucking  _ promised _ , after John, that I would stop falling for people after knowing them for like, a week. That should be  _ easy _ ! But  _ no _ , not for  _ Karkat _ it’s not! Someone gives me the bare  _ minimum _ of affection, and suddenly I’m head over  _ fucking _ heels.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be a romantic, Karkat,” Kanaya says, but what the hell would  _ she _ know. She’s been in a fucking  _ amazing _ and  _ perfect  _ relationship for five months, after  _ years _ of pining online, and a year after that of pining in person.

“It  _ is _ when all that comes of it is getting fucked in the  _ head _ .  _ Nothing _ good  _ ever _ comes when my brain’s like,  _ hey, Karkat, you know Dave, that guy you’ve known for like, two months? We’re in love with him now, fuck you _ , and even though it’s  _ my head _ , it feels like I get  _ no fucking choice _ .” A frustrated sound comes from the back of your throat, almost a growl, and you’re too worked up to be embarrassed about it. “It fucking  _ sucks _ , Kanaya! It fucking  _ sucks _ .”

You fall backwards onto her bed again, bringing your hands to cover your face because you really don’t want to see whatever expression Kanaya’s making right now. She probably looks annoyed. Or is looking at you like you’re a literal four year-old. 

“So this  _ is _ about Dave,” she murmurs, and your eyebrows twitch in irritation. “I mean, I figured as much, but I wanted to make sure Rose and I were correct. She-”

“Wait,” you say, voice strangled, “You guys have been  _ talking _ about this? About me?”  _ What else should I have expected _ , you think, and even your internal monologue is bitter. “Jegus, Kan, at least  _ tell _ me when you and your girlfriend are invading my goddamn privacy.”

“It’s not just your privacy,” Kanaya says, “It’s Dave’s too. And Rose is  _ very _ invested in Dave’s personal life, much to his chagrin, and to my entertainment.”

“Rose is-” The words die in your throat. “Rose is  _ what _ ?”

A strange expression crosses over Kanaya’s face, and suddenly you think you might be sick. “Rose is invested in Dave’s life? Did you not know this? Has he not complained about it?”

“He hasn’t- I don’t-” You’re sputtering.  _ Stop being an idiot fuckwad! _ “Why would Rose care about Dave? How does  _ Rose _ know  _ Dave _ ?”

“How does Rose…” Kanaya’s voice trails off, and she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Karkat, Dave is Rose’s  _ brother _ .”

_______________

** _You:_ ** _ DAVE _

** _Strider:_ ** _ hey karks whats up _

** _Strider:_ ** _ oh lemme guess _

** _Strider:_ ** _ is there a new movie you wanna show me _

** _Strider:_ ** _ or is it something sexier _

** _You:_ ** _ DAVE _

** _Strider:_ ** _ you got a promotion _

** _Strider:_ ** _ no u wouldnt text me about that first cause you think i dont care _

** _Strider:_ ** _ and bro you gotta understand as your bro i care deeply about your career advancement _

** _Strider:_ ** _ besides a promotion might mean a change to our bro time and that shit would be bad _

** _Strider:_ ** _ oh wait _

** _Strider:_ ** _ then maybe you would text me about a promotion if thats the case _

** _You:_ ** _ DAVE PLEASE _

** _Strider:_ ** _ ok ok i get it _

** _Strider:_ ** _ one more guess _

** _Strider:_ ** _ you got a tattoo _

** _You:_ ** _ NO _

** _You:_ ** _ AND I ALREADY HAVE A TATTOO _

** _You:_ ** _ BUT THATS NOT WHAT I WANT TO TALK ABOUT _

** _Strider:_ ** _ you what???? _

** _Strider:_ ** _ when was i gonna learn this??? _

** _You:_ ** _ DAVE _

** _You:_ ** _ CAN YOU COME OVER _

** _You:_ ** _ LIKE TODAY? _

** _Strider:_ ** _ woah uh _

** _Strider:_ ** _ i dont think ive been to your place yet _

** _Strider:_ ** _ but yeah i can _

** _Strider:_ ** _ is there like _

** _Strider:_ ** _ an actual emergency?? _

** _You:_ ** _ NO _

** _Strider:_ ** _ oh _

** _Strider:_ ** _ ok then _

** _Strider:_ ** _ just send me the address and ill be there faster than you can say DAVE IS THE COOLEST BRO AND I APPRECIATE HIM VERY MUCH _

** _You:_ ** _ DAVE _

** _Strider:_ ** _ alrighty karks is losing patience _

** _Strider:_ ** _ got it _

___________________

When Dave enters your apartment, he looks almost exactly the same as he did when he first walked into the café.

Same  _ too-stiff-to-be-casual _ ‘cool guy’ walk, same carefully blank expression, and definitely the same awkward tremor in his voice. “Your place is, uh,” he says, then swallows, trailing a finger along your shitty old bookshelf. “It’s- neater, I guess, than I thought it would be.”

“You expected me to be a fucking mess?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to be so...on top of your cleaning shit.”

“Keeping my shit neat is one of the only things I’m good at,” you sigh, taking a seat on your couch. Before you can even wonder if he will or not, Dave is sitting next to you, and even in your annoyed state you can’t help but be pleased.

“So, what’s, uh, what’s the thing?” Dave asks, and good god, he couldn’t sound less suave if he tried. This conversation is his china shop, and he is the most awkward bull you’ve ever seen. “You wanted to talk about a thing. What’s the thing?”

“Why did Rose recommend the café?”

“Oh, that?” Dave sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I already told you, she- she- she, uh…” The hand falls. “How did you-”

“Kanaya,” you say simply, keeping your expression as blank as his. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your sister?”

“I just-” Dave coughs, clearly faking it, and your fingers start to tap against your knuckles impatiently. “I figured you already knew…?”

“If you thought that, you wouldn’t have avoided using her name in every conversation involving her,” you mutter. “Seriously, Dave, why didn’t you tell me? It wouldn't even have been a big deal. You could’ve literally just said,  _ oh, my sister- you know Rose Lalonde? She’s my sister- she recommended this place _ .” As you say this, you can feel your brows furrowing. “And how was I supposed to know she was your sister, anyway?”

“I’m sure she’s talked about me, she can’t fucking shut up about me.”

“She has, but you two have different last names. It’s not that far of a stretch to assume two different Daves exist in this town.”

“Why is this such a big deal?” Dave says, clearly annoyed. “So what, Rose is my sister. I forgot to tell you. Oh well.”

“Rose doesn’t just recommend shops because  _ the drinks are good _ ,” you sneer, using air quotes as you say this. “Besides, she fucking hates the coffee at our shop. Why did you lie?”

“Oh, so  _ that’s _ what this is about,” Dave mutters, “Did I hurt Karky-warky’s feelings ‘cause I  _ lied _ ?”

You feel yourself start to freeze. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you manage to spit out over the anger boiling in your chest. “It’s not even a hard question to  _ fucking _ answer.” Your hands ball into fists. “I just want to know why you didn’t mention that Rose Lalonde, girlfriend of my best friend, was your sister, and why it’s such a big  _ fucking _ deal for you.”

“It’s  _ not _ ,” Dave says, voice rising, “Apparently, it is for  _ you _ , but not for me, okay? This is  _ not _ a big deal.”

“Then why are you  _ freaking out _ ?”

“Why are  _ you _ ?”

“Because Rose  _ always has a plan _ !”

Dave is staring at you, finally silent, and you realize that at some point, your hands had gone from fists in your lap to twisted in your hair. “Rose always has some other fucking agenda,” you say, trying to keep your voice down. “She doesn’t just  _ do _ stuff like that, not when she knows both me and Kanaya work there. And when I asked why you were so nervous, you lied.” Dave opens his mouth to object, but you shush him with a finger. “Don’t pretend you didn't. You’re a terrible fucking liar. And it wouldn’t have been a big deal, I actually thought it was kind of funny, except…”

“Except I made myself look super fucking suspicious by saying all that shit,” he finishes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I guess with all these factors, you’re not  _ totally _ batshit to think something wack was going on.”

“So you admit she had a plan.”

“She didn’t-” Dave sighs, seemingly out of fight. You think you are, too. “Her  _ plan _ was her realizing that I’d been lonely as fuck, and I hadn’t made any friends, and shit’s been really hard since we moved, so she was like,  _ oh, Dave, you remember my amazing girlfriend, Kanaya? She works at a café downtown, and one of her friends works there too- his name is Karkat, she thinks rather highly of him. Why don’t you go down and say high? Act casual, make friends, blah blah blah, I’m so smart and I know everything, other things that I don’t want to say ‘cause you’d throw me out, blah blah _ .” 

Dave has the expression of someone who’s said too much, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about him, it’s that once he’s started, he doesn’t stop. “So I was like,  _ fuck you, Rose, I don’t just want to be friends with your friends _ , but then, after I met you, and you were like, really fucking cool, I thought, if you didn’t know I was Rose’s bro, then you wouldn’t think I’m some sad douchebag mooching off my sister for friends. I didn’t mean to keep it a  _ secret _ , I just kind of...I don’t know. I don’t know, Karkat.”

You try to keep a straight face, because you can tell that all of this clearly pained Dave to tell you, but you can’t keep the disbelief out of your voice when you blurt, “That’s  _ it _ ?”

Dave whips his head around to look at you, eyebrows plummeting to his hairline. “What do you mean  _ that’s it _ ?”

“Sorry, it’s just-” You don’t know how to say this without being an asshole. “You didn’t tell me ‘cause you thought I’d think you were  _ pathetic _ ?”

“Uh.” Dave’s face flushes a shade darker, and the familiar warmth associated with a blushing Dave returns. For once, you welcome it. You much prefer that to anger. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Dave,” you say, barking out a laugh, “ _ Nobody’s _ as pathetic as me.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring at your smiling face, and you don’t know what this means. What  _ any _ of this means. You’re sure he’s still hiding something from you- you hadn’t missed that ‘ _ other things that I don’t want to say _ ’, but you’re sure whatever it is, it isn’t a big deal either. And you realize, in this moment- he’s exactly like you. Beating himself up over something stupid, spiralling into self-deprciation because he can’t comprehend the difference between what’s in his head and what’s real- it’s like looking in a mirror.

And like mirrors do when they’re faced with something, Dave’s face stretches into the same smile you’re wearing after only a second more. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, shaking his head, “We’re fucking  _ dumb _ .”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Strider,” you say, and he gasps.

“Don’t tell me we’re back on last-name basis,” Dave whispers.

“If you look like I killed your grandmother every time I call you Strider, I don’t think your heart could handle it if I went back to last-name basis.”

“Thank Jegus,” he sighs again, and leans into your shoulder with no warning. “I think I like it better when you don’t talk to me like I’m your anime rival.”

You would say something back, but it seems that your vocal cords withered and died the second he went ahead and put his head on you. He’s looking up at you, waiting for a reply, and you can’t say anything. You think, at this distance, you can see the distorted image of his eyes through his shades.

Suddenly, the corners of his mouth drop, and he’s pushed himself off of you in a clumsy but speedy manner. “I don’t- um,” he says, turning away from you. “Yeah. You know.”

_ I don’t _ , you think,  _ I really don’t. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok hey so u know how i said i would write a second chapter that finished the fic then i just didnt do that and left u guys hanging haaaaaaaah oh damn im sorry yall this doesnt even finish it but here u go anyway, hopefully ill finish the 3rd chapter which will actually wrap up the story

**Author's Note:**

> im just so damn sorry i havent posted in so long yall things have been pretty wack??? but now that summers over id like to try and post things at least a little more often. ive had drabbles here and there but nothing felt good enough to post, so i figured i might as well post this one since its a cute fluffy little thing. would u guys want a second chapter where they actually get together? i thought about writing one, but i was worried id lose all inspiration and never post it at all, so im posting it like this with a possible second chapter open. let me know if you want that in the comments, and thanks for reading!!!
> 
> if you ever wanna talk about ships, fics, and other things, my tumblr is @vaporeon-ninja :D


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